. . .

They tumble one after another into Tom’s bedroom. They use science devices to set up a hasty perimeter. They unleash the drones. They tie a string with some pots and pans to the door.

They set Mouser down on the bed.

The cat looks at them. Then the cat begins to clean his foot. Then he looks at them again.

Mouser mews.

Tom chews on his lip. “We’re going to have to get a whisker,” he says.

Mouser scurries desperately for cover, almost as if he understands. Jane dives. Jane grabs him by the foot. Mouser struggles wildly. She lets go of the foot because she’s afraid of breaking Mouser’s leg but this only enhances Mouser’s determination to escape.

Tom seizes the cat.

Jane tries to get at a whisker.

“Come on, Mouser,” says Edmund. He attempts to glamour the cat with his wolf-eyes but it only makes the cat wiggle harder to get away.

“It’s just one whisker,” says Tom. “You can spare one whisker!”

Jane hesitates. She is struck by a sudden moral conundrum.

“Is it really right to maim a cat just so the rest of us can live?”

“We can think about ethics later!” Tom delays. “Right now, there’s a smoking gun!”

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